Amnesiacs Anonymous: The Demon Inside
by Andrew A. Anderson
Summary: The world wanted him dead, but now Lelouch vi Britannia and his Black Knights are the only things standing between the Dark Phoenixes and their quest for complete global control. With his memories gone, will he be able to overcome his dark past to lead the Black Knights to victory? Or will he lose himself in regret for his previous sins? Sequel to Phoenix Rising. HIATUS HAS ENDED.
1. Chapter 1 - The Amnesiac's Curse

**A/N:** Welcome to my newest story, Amnesiacs Anonymous: The Demon Inside! I shall endeavor to improve upon the first story I have ever written by re-doing my writing style (or lack thereof) from my earlier days of writing (seriously it's only been like 7 months, but I changed my style a lot if you can tell). A little clarification: this story is the sequel to Phoenix Rising, so it will have all the plot elements such as the Dark Phoenixes, Lelouch's resurrection, and last but definitely not least, his growing relationship with C.C. Because I ship them, of course. Anyway, there are several plot elements from the original AA1 that I am doing away with, such as how the _deus ex machina_ known as "god" restored their memories with a simple command. I mean, come on, no extensive discovery to find their identities? Lame. Sorry if I let any of you mystery lovers down in the original, but I am here to fix that! I am also re-doing the semi-overcheesy death/resurrection scene at the end of AA1, because looking back on it, I _really_ overdid that. I might also redo their hospital escape sequence from the beginning, because it made no sense how they could just sneak out the morgue as two dead corpses without anyone noticing anything. Also, Lelouch will "die" less. I think I was trying to push the whole "I will sacrifice myself for everything" agenda too much.

In short, I'm just gonna keep the Dark Phoenixes and throw out the rest. Prepare to get your mind thrown around a lot more than you did in the original. Happy reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - The Amnesiac's Curse<strong>

* * *

><p>Two gunshots pierced the tranquil night air, and the next thing he knew, he was falling. His body would not stop falling. He watched as the bright sun that loomed overhead grew ever so slightly smaller, an optical illusion created by the decreasing angles the light traveled from the edges of the sun to his eyes. The sun seemed to stare back at him, as to question why he was still falling. His vision swirled for a moment and the sun was suddenly a deep blood-red, laughing at his predicament as he continued his unfettered path toward the icy waters below. They swirled and foamed, eager to swallow up anyone foolish enough to take a swim this late in the night. The sky turned a harsh shade of purple, then neon orange. Or was it green? He couldn't tell. All he was certain of was that he was falling, though he could not remember why.<p>

Shock bathed his senses as he broke the surface of the dark waters that immediately split to accommodate him. By pure instinct he acted, forcing his arms to push him to the surface of the water. It stung his eyes when he tried to keep them open, but he willed himself to at least squint through the freezing water. He brought his arm back for a long stroke, but a sharp pain in his back made him halt his movements. The waves rocked him back and forth like a random piece of flotsam. The cold that ate away at his joints made his movements as slow as molasses. He thought he was moving forward, but another wave that crashed over the top of his head sent him floating backwards.

As his arms dragged through the water, something solid brushed against his hand, a relief from the unsubstantial fluidity of the water. Though he couldn't tell what it was, he grabbed onto it and held fast. The shifting currents forced his head underwater, and he surfaced several moments later, choking and spitting out water. His long hair clung to his eyes and forehead, making his vision even more blurry than he cared to deal with. He tried to hoist himself up on top of the object he had latched onto, but realized he was sinking with the object. Curious of what he had selected, he opened his eyes barely enough to make out the general outline of the object. What he saw was no object.

It was a person.

A dead person, to be exact. A cold lifeless corpse that had been floating in the waters next to him. He recoiled his arm in horror and tried to swim away from the body. But whoever it was, long tendrils of green hair were wrapped around his arm, probably from when he had been trying to grab onto what he thought might have been a log, and he found himself pulling the body behind him. Even more horrified, he swam away faster, but another wave crashed down upon him and he found himself drowning again.

He was completely submerged now. He found he could open his eyes without the icy waters stinging them. His body was numb, though vaguely aware of the cold that encompassed him. At the bottom of the waters appeared a light. It was a faint greenish-blue, and it seemed to flicker and change colors depending on the angle he looked at it. In an unexpected burst of light, he caught a glimpse of a shadow at the bottom. It was the shadow of a person he saw. The shadow was moving closer to him, and the light was getting brighter. At this point, he couldn't tell if he was dreaming or he was actually losing his mind. The light grew to fill his entire field of vision and the shadow of the figure grew even closer. He could now see that the figure was a girl, though he could not see her face. She stretched one arm out toward him, as if beckoning him to follow her. He somehow felt compelled to extend his own arm in return, both of them now reaching for each other over an intangible abyss of darkness and uncertainty.

"Remember me..." was the dreamy voice that called out to him, most presumably from the girl. He didn't know what to think or how to respond, and she repeated herself several times more, growing softer with each gradation. He squinted even harder in an attempt to recognize the face, though he could still only see a shadow.

"Who are you?" he tried to call out, but all he heard from himself was bubbles of air ascending toward the surface of the water. In a sudden flash she disappeared, leaving him to extend his arm toward nothingness once more. The dark waters returned to him as the strange blue lights left him. He was back in the ocean, though whether or not he truly left was uncertain. His shoulders bumped up against land, and he willed his remaining strength to carry him to shore, wherever shore was. He crawled up the banks until he felt the waves stop washing over him. Utterly exhausted, he collapsed into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><em>All the hatred of the world is now focused on me...<em>

_If the king does not lead, how can he..._

_...that's our signal! All units..._

_Do you know why snow is white?_

_...called the Zero Requiem._

_So there are others like this one?_

_You're despicable...!_

_I, Lelouch vi Britannia, command you..._

_...can't ask him to be Zero again. Not this time._

_...false smiles bring pain to one's self._

_Live!_

The boy's eyes shot open and found a lamp hovering above his face. He was lying down on a bed with a blanket draped over him. His right arm crossed his chest, while his left arm lay limp at his side. A strange numbness surrounded his forearm and he realized he was connected to an IV. He tried sitting up but someone's hand gently held him down.

"Lie still. You've been unconscious for about a week now." The voice came from his right, but as he tried to turn on his side, the same hand held him still.

"Relax."

His mouth opened in an attempt to speak and he found his voice abnormally hoarse. "A week?"

"From the time we found you on the beach until now, yes, a week. You washed up on shore lying next to a girl. Do you know her?"

"Beach? What beach...? And no, I don't know who..." His head began to pound from this sudden onslaught of movement after not having moved for, according to the doctors, a week.

"Don't over-exert yourself. You've been out cold and your body isn't used to using all of your senses. Here, I'm going to give you a little bit of painkillers to take the edge off, alright?"

"Where am I?"

"One of the finest hospitals in the world, Busan Medical Center."

"Busan? I'm in the United States of China?"

"Yes, sir. Where are you from?" The doctor began to take a syringe and draw medicine from a bottle. He inserted it into the IV drip and depressed the syringe, emptying its contents.

"I don't know."

"Don't worry, you're most likely confused from that concussion you received. What's your name?"

"I don't know that either."

The doctor paused, looking curiously at his patient. In a few moments he would resume his work without giving much thought to this odd situation, but for now, he would try and figure out just what exactly was happening. Two bodies washed up on shore and neither one remembered where they were from or how they got there to begin with. What's more was that neither could remember their names. The nameless boy didn't know this yet, but the doctor had already asked the girl the same questions and he was giving similar responses.

"You don't know? That's quite strange."

The doctor studied the boy's face intensely and drew back when he finished his analysis. He bore a striking resemblance to Lelouch vi Britannia, who was supposedly dead. Rumors had ways of spreading throughout the world however, and the latest word around the world was that Lelouch had returned. Authorities were unable to turn up his body, though several attempts were made to fool the public into silence by means of several life-size wax dummies. The plan would have worked, had it not been for the loudmouthing sculptor who bragged about his latest undertakings which included being secretly commissioned by the Britannian government.

If the dead Emperor was in fact alive, it would mean that he was in league with the Black Knights, or at least Zero, and his entire death was staged. And for what? The press would never hear the end of it. But this patient lying down stretched out on a hospital cot was no wax dummy. He was a living breathing human being who had no clue who he was or where he came from. Still, he felt it necessary to ask.

"Are you sure?"

The doctor's question was more like an accusatory statement, and the boy tilted his head with curiosity.

"I wish I was lying. I have no idea who I am. My life is empty."

There was a distant look in the boy's eyes, and the doctor immediately dropped his accusations. Perhaps this boy was simply a look-a-like from one of those talent shows, or perhaps the Demon Emperor was his inspiration and he had his facial features surgically altered. It wasn't uncommon for society's youth to change their appearance to look like their idols.

"Can I have some water?" the boy asked. He sounded tired.

"I don't see why not. Let me take a quick diagnosis just to make sure."

By the time the doctor had finished his diagnosis, the boy had fallen fast asleep. He left a glass of water at his bedside table and left the room. He closed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>He was sweating profusely. His entire shirt was soaked until it turned a darker shade of gray. He kept pushing himself to run quicker for fear of what lay behind him. His body ached, but he could not stop running now. He dared to glance behind him, but the man was still there, still watching. His legs pumped up and down in a desperate attempt to move him faster. His back ached, but he kept his pace, swinging his arms back and forth. Suddenly his foot slipped, and he fell. He landed on the ground with a loud shout, and the man behind him stepped closer.<p>

"You know, at this rate, you're going to break all of the treadmills in the rehab center."

"I wouldn't break them if you didn't force me on them in the first place."

"We have to accelerate your heart rate to do these tests. Now get up..."

The man grasped his hand and pulled him to his feet. He walked over to the treadmill and turned it off. The machine whirred to a halt.

"In the history of teenagers with too little exercise, you have to be the worst."

"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you." The boy retorted.

"Davis, finish up your tests. I need the boy for a moment." A doctor appeared in the doorway of the entrance of the rehabilitation center.

The trainer looked at the doctor and back to the boy, then nodded.

* * *

><p>"What is this?"<p>

The boy held the object up to the light. It was a small plastic bag with a transparent red tag on the top that sealed it shut. There was some small text printed on the tag and he read it aloud.

"Forensics evidence...nine-millimeter round-"

"So you can read that?" The doctor interrupted. He looked surprised. "You read that without an accent. I'm guessing you're not from around here."

"I wouldn't know."

The doctor sighed. "What do you think is in the bag? Do you know what that is?"

"I don't know how I can read, but I assure you, I can read. The label says it's a nine-millimeter round."

"What can you tell me about it?"

The boy took a closer look at the bullet and noted several observations in his head. "It looks crumpled, as if it hit something hard." he reported.

"Something as hard as bone, perhaps." The doctor added. The boy looked up at him with curiosity.

"Where did you find this?"

"In your left shoulder blade."

There was a pause as the doctor's words sank in.

"My shoulder blade? What are you saying, that I was shot at?" The boy's voice grew slightly louder.

"Look, I don't know what happened to you before you washed up on shore, but it's possible that your shooting was only an accident. Maybe it was a mugging gone wrong."

"What if it's not? If someone shot me with the intent to kill and found out I'm still alive, they might try to kill me again!" His outburst earned the glances of an intern who was passing by the hospital room. The doctor put a finger to his lips to motion him to quiet down.

"If someone is out there—"

"There is no one out there."

"What?" The boy looked confused.

"I'm sorry I had to put you through this, but this was just a psychological test. You weren't shot, and I got this bullet from a target range. Now hold still while I take a blood sample."

The doctor took an alcohol swab and wiped a part of his arm to disinfect the area. The boy winced as the needle entered his arm. He spoke again in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. "You lied?" The boy didn't look convinced.

"I was trying to jog your memory," the doctor explained. He finished taking the sample and turned around to label the sample for transport.

"But if I wasn't shot, why would showing me a bullet jog my memory?" He asked suspiciously.

The doctor paused in his work but didn't answer. He returned his attention to the blood sample and finished packing it away.

"I'm going to process this sample for testing. I'll let you know the results of the tests in three days."

The doctor pulled off his disposable gloves and dropped them into a trash bin as he left the room. He stopped outside the doorway and looked back at his patient. He shook his head and muttered something to himself as he continued down the hallway.

* * *

><p>A small vial of blood was inserted into a complicated looking machine. The blood drained onto several microscope slides for testing. The machine buzzed and beeped as it processed the information from the blood.<p>

A small screen next to the device began mapping out the genetic sequence of the blood sample. As more and more pieces were added to the sequence, the progress bar grew more and more quickly. Finally, the screen flashed complete and displayed a portrait with the corresponding genetic code for the profile. The portrait was that of a young Britannian prince who had ascended to the status of Emperor before he had even finished high school. The undying pair of violet eyes struck the doctor, and he now knew exactly who he was dealing with.

The computer beeped and its speakers read out:

_DNA Sequencing complete. One hundred percent match to Lelouch vi Britannia._

The two DNA samples were a perfect match.


	2. Chapter 2 - Power of the Mind

**A/N: **Firstly, I am very sorry to everyone for the long hiatus. School is nuts, SATs suck, and life is hard. But that's ok because it makes writing an even more enjoyable escape. Ah you've all heard me turn these author's notes into essays. Thank you for sticking around for 6 months if you've waited since chapter 1. Behold, I have returned!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Power of the Mind<strong>

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><p>There was white light everywhere. Whiter than the whitest cloth soaked in bleach, it seemed to surround him and penetrate his very being. It hurt to open his eyes.<p>

After long periods of being inside, one's eyes adjust to the darkness by contracting the irises that control how much light the retina is exposed to. Just like how people who watch movies in theaters may go outside and be blinded by the sun. The sun did not change its intensity between the time the moviegoer entered the theater and the time the moviegoer exited, rather, the moviegoer's eyes are not accustomed to the light. It is all a matter of relativity.

And so he kept his eyes shut as the moviegoer does after watching a movie. As someone accustomed to darkness, now faced with light. He felt as if the sun had descended upon his being, yet he felt no heat.

He felt cold.

A voice called out behind him.

"What are you doing inside my head?" It was a girl's voice, soft yet demanding, curious but at the same time almost accusatory.

"Your head? What are you talking about, you're in mine!" he said to the voice behind him.

He was about to turn around when he realized he was lying on his backside. Strange, as he didn't feel the floor solidly underneath him. Yet he still felt gravity pulling him into his back. He struggled to sit up but realized he couldn't. Every time he pushed down with his arms in his attempt to raise himself, his arms would dip into whatever unknown surface was supporting him, like a man laying on a squishy trampoline.

"It doesn't work like that," the voice said to him.

"What?"

"Imagine yourself standing up."

"That's exactly what I'm doing, I'm trying to get up!"

"Imagine, don't try," the voice repeated.

He scowled as he returned to pushing himself up, or rolling himself over, or kicking out his legs wildly like a beetle rolling about on its back. At one point he had even resorted to attempting a martial arts style pop-up. He only succeeded in humping the air above him.

Just as he was about to give up and scold the girl for feeding him false information and making him look like a fool, he found himself standing up. He looked around and saw the girl standing not behind him, but next to him. He could only see a silhouette though, as she seemed to glow as brilliantly as the room itself. He couldn't see her face.

"See, I can do this, I'm standing," he said to her.

" No actually, I did that," she corrected. "You're standing because of me."

"What? How?"

"I imagined you standing."

He held up a hand to his eyes and squinted even more than he had before, for she had begun to glow even brighter if that was possible.

"Why are you doing that to me?" she asked. Her voice echoed and reverberated throughout the large room they were in, if indeed it could be called a room, that is.

"Doing what?"

"Your hand. Why are you squinting at me like that?" she tilted her to the side.

"You're bright!" He said simply like it was an obvious fact that everyone took for granted as an easy truth.

"Really? That's strange, you look rather dark to me," she said to him, stated equally as bluntly. "Actually, this whole place looks rather dark. Like a subway station without lights. Try imagining me less bright."

He thought for a moment, but as he could not thrash his limbs about as he had before in a vain attempt at stubbornness to the stranger's suggestion, he decided he had no choice but to comply with the strange request.

Almost immediately, the light dimmed and he could finally see the girl's face. She had long flowing hair that was bleached white like the walls around her were before he had reimagined them into a darker less piercing tone. For the most part, she was still brightly glowing, but he could at least see her face. There was something else about her, an unspoken familiarity between the two that seemed to stretch past the invisible boundaries of this strange place.

"You're that girl I saw in the ocean...! No, wait... yes! It's you that I saw!" he exclaimed.

She chuckled to herself, as if amused. "What are you talking about?"

"Who are you?"

"I don't know. But what are you doing in my mind? The better question is who are _you_?"

He paused. "I don't know either."

"Do you find that odd?" her dreamy voice asked.

"Yes."

"Which part? You being in my mind or that neither of us know who we are?"

"Both."

"Who do you think I am? Do you know me?"

"I don't know you," the boy replied.

"Perhaps we once did."

"Perhaps."

There was a long pause between the two, but it was not filled with awkwardness or fleeting glances at the other person. They held each others' gaze, both minds racing to come up with answers. The pause was not silent either, there seemed to be a growing noise that would soon crescendo into a deafening roar, if left unchecked. The girl turned away and the growing noise shrank away timidly. She began to walk away soundlessly.

"Wait, where are you going?" the boy cried out to her retreating form. He tried to follow her, but his feet were rooted to the ground. He growled in annoyance as he "imagined" himself walking, but his movements were jerky and immature like a struggling infant learning to walk, while the girl's movements were fluid and seamless, like how a normal person would walk. She was much too fast for him.

"Wait!" he shouted. His voice seemed to carry and carry throughout the room, crescendoing in the same manner the noise has grown earlier. He covered his ears as the sound was soon starting to hurt. He could barely see the girl, but he could tell she did not seem affected by the growing noise.

Then all of the noise stopped.

The girl turned around, and suddenly he could see her as clearly as if she were standing mere meters away from him, despite the chasm she had placed between them. She smiled.

"I think it's time to wake up now."

All went dark, but her shadow remained burned into his mind like a brand upon leather, forever seared into his memory that didn't exist.

* * *

><p>He woke with a start. Eyes shifted side to side, noting the color of the walls surrounding him. He was still on his back but something was different. This seemed more familiar to him. The walls were colored a faint pink, or at least they used to be pink. The paint had faded and dissolved its color, rubbed into inexistence by the ebbs and the flow of time, leaving the once vibrant wall a vacant remnant of the past.<p>

He sat up with success and relative ease this time, silently reminding his future self the importance of disregarding the advice given by strange girls in white empty rooms.

He was in his hospital cot. Slowly, his memories resurfaced and he remembered the events after he was pulled out of the ocean. He was brought by locals to a hospital where he learned he had acquired a curious case of retrograde amnesia.

A nurse walked in, all smiles and sunshine and rainbows, seemingly oblivious to the harsh reality of the sterile hospital, where people died every day, and medical insurance costs finished off the survivors. To some, friendly faces were welcome, but to others, such carefree gayety was an insult to their dire situations.

"Good morning, how are we today?" the cheery face beamed down at the boy.

"Fine." He scoffed inwardly. 'How are "we" today', as if she could feel his pain or suffering. Like someone with multiple personality disorder asking their other self "Are we okay?" As if they were one and the same person, feeling what the other felt, understanding as the other suffered.

"That's so good to hear!"

He groaned suddenly and grasped his shoulder as he felt a twinge of pain in his backside.

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know, my shoulder aches."

"I'm sorry, but I've been told to not give you any more painkillers. We don't want you getting addicted to this stuff, do we?"

"Ah, of course not." He scoffed inwardly again. Getting patients addicted to painkillers on purpose was not uncommon. Malpractice...

"I'll send the doctor in. We'll see what we can do."

The door closed and the sterile environment closed in on him once more. The room was silent, just like in his dream, save for the rhythmic beeping of the ECG.

_"You washed up on shore lying next to a girl. Do you know her?"_

The girl.

The doctor walked in, setting a clipboard down on the boy's bedside table. He announced a quiet "good morning" to his patient before giving around in his coat pocket. He drew out a syringe before he produced a small vial. The needle squeaked past the plastic sterile safety cover and the liquid hissed its way up the needle into the glass chamber.

But his movements were strange. Almost like the boy's own movements in his strange dream as he tried to walk in pursuit of the strange girl. Jerky yet meticulous, and somehow hesitant all at once. He inserted the needle into the IV bag.

"Doctor?" the boy started.

"Yes?"

"Those are the painkillers the nurse ordered for me, correct?"

The doctor paused before depressing the contents into the bag. "Yes, they are."

"That's what I thought."

The boy yanked out the needle connecting his hand to the IV drip and jammed it into the doctor's arm instead, causing a sharp cry to escape his lips. He held his hand over the needle, keeping it in place, while his other hand went for the doctor's throat. In a rage he threw the covers off of himself and jumped off his cot, running the doctor into the wall, knocking off his thick glasses in the process. To the boy's surprise, the doctor's skin even seemed to fold unnaturally. A flap of skin dislodged itself and partially covered his right eye,

"The nurse never said she would send an order for medication today, she said I wasn't supposed to have any more." he hissed at the doctor, who he now wasn't sure was actually a doctor.

"Oops." the doctor managed through strangled breath and gritted teeth. His sadistic grin was now lopsided, as half of his mouth was now crooked. His chin also jutted out at a curious angle he hadn't noticed before.

"What the..."

He removed his hand from the doctor's throat and grabbed his chin, ripping upwards. A mask materialized in his hand, leaving the "doctor" looking more like a serial killer. He threw the mask aside where it splatted on the wall.

"Who the hell are you?"

The doctor's grin disappeared slowly and his eyelids drooped down over his glazed eyes. He slumped against the wall and collapsed into a heap at the boy's feet. The boy snatched up the vial in the doctor's hand and read the label.

"Diprivan. It's a sedative, not a pain suppressant. Bastard was trying to put me under."

He slammed the bottle down on the table and ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to collect small beads of sweat. He braced himself on the edge of his bedside table and saw the clipboard laying on top of it. Underneath the rusted aluminum clip lay a manilla folder with a strange stamp on it, resembling the letter "U" but with a sword dividing the two sides that forked off into outward facing prongs. Below it read in red print, "Code-R".

"Code-R?"

He opened the file and found himself staring into a mirror. The first page contained his picture as well as the rest of his medical status, and perhaps most importantly, his name.

"Lelouch vi Britannia. My name is Lelouch vi Britannia."

He flipped through the information laid out for him on the pages of the file, learning he was underweight, nearly at the 8th percentile mark, tall for his age at the 62nd percentile, and his BMI was low, under the 3rd percentile. He had type-A blood with some other abnormalities present in his bloodstream, though he felt nothing. He flipped the page and nearly dropped the folder.

There were several pictures, held by binder clips. The first was of him on the beach, surrounded by local authorities. There was a girl beside him, her hair sprawled out along the sands. He flipped through to the next picture and it was of his CT scans, identifying a small fracture in his left shoulder blade. There was a small clipping about the nine millimeter round that was dug out of his shoulder. Several more pages passed by until he found a page with both his name and picture, along with the name and picture of the girl who seemed to appear everywhere.

The title of the page read "Official order of termination"

* * *

><p>"Help."<p>

The single word echoed through the large room. There was white everywhere again. Lelouch lay on his back, taking in his surroundings. He was on his back again, much to his dismay. He groaned as he tried to remember what he was supposed to do. Imagine himself standing, was it?

In a moment he was on his feet, proud of his handiwork. He spun around to see who was calling him and saw the same girl from his previous visit to this strange room. She was still glowing and still as big of a mystery as she had been before. He imagined her as a less illuminated being, and almost immediately she was brought to a visible level of light.

"I see you've gotten used to controlling your environment here," she complimented.

"What is this place?" Lelouch asked. He looked around some more to confirm it was the same place, and it was. Though it was difficult to say if there were other places like this one that bore the same characteristic ever present white glow or the same physical rules, for the moment he assumed he was in the same place.

"This is still my mind," the girl said.

"Can I show you something from the outside world? Is it possible to do that?" Lelouch asked.

The girl thought for a moment. "I suppose. It depends on whether you can remember it or not. Show me."

Lelouch recalled the manila file in his mind, closing his eyes to concentrate. When he felt a rustling of papers between his fingers, he opened his eyes, pleased that the very same folder lay in his hands. He flipped to the page titled "Official order of termination" and showed the girl the picture.

"Is this you?" he pointed to the girl on the right.

She bent in closer to observe the picture, and after having stared at it for quite some time, she announced she was in fact the girl in the picture.

"My name is C.C.? That's a funny name." she quipped. "What's yours?"

"Lelouch."

"Nice to meet you, Lelouch. Can I see that folder?"

Wordlessly, he handed her the folder. She took a quick glance at the front page containing his medical records. Most of the detailed numbers were blurry, and she realized the record she could see was limited by his memory. He obviously remembered his name and picture, but the numbers for what height and weight percentile he fit into were blurry. The pictures were not completely clear either. The centers were focused, but the edges blurred the details that might lend clues to tier identities. He had likely only looked over the information briefly.

She flipped through his medical records to the back and came across a thick section of blank pages. She flipped to the next, and the next, but they all seemed to be blank.

"Why are these blank?"

"I didn't have a chance to read to the end. All I remember is that the back was thick and heavy. There were pictures too."

She reached a thick stack of blank photo paper in the back, bound by a large binder clip. The photo paper was of similar material to the photos in the front, but these were all blank.

Suddenly the whole room shook, and both Lelouch and C.C. were disoriented.

"What was that? Is this still your mind?" Lelouch asked.

"I don't know, they're taking me somewhere. I think I'm waking up." she sounded afraid.

"Who is taking you?" Lelouch asked.

"I don't know..."

"Were you drugged?" he insisted further.

"Look, I don't-"

"Did you see anything suspicious? Like a doctor who wasn't-"

"Stop it! I don't know! Just come find me when you wake up!"

The room shook again, and C.C. held her head between her palms.

"Where?"

"Room 312! Or 212...I think...I don't remember!" she exclaimed.

"But those are two separate floors! I don't have-"

"Just find me when you wake up!" She was beginning to fade and darken, and the room around them followed suit.

"Wait! C.C.! Were you that voice in the water?"

But it was too late. She had vanished completely and the entire room went darker than the depths of the deepest chasm.

* * *

><p>Lelouch woke, or rather regained his focus. He was still bent over the table looking through the files. He flipped to the back of the folder where there was previously blank paper. There were medical records as well, but not his. Curious that they would be stuck in the same folder as another patient's files. Even more curious was C.C.'s picture on the medical records. Lelouch got the feeling that his visions of her and her constant appearance in his files wasn't a coincidence.<p>

But the strangest tidbit of information of all was not his metaphysical connection to C.C.'s mind, nor was it the strange pictures showing him and C.C. lying next to each other on the sand, but it was the order to kill both of them, located in a file containing both of their medical information. Was Code-R, or whoever was responsible, trying to erase their existence by stealing their medical files before killing them?

C.C. said she wanted Lelouch to find her. That was her cry for help he heard at first. What if they had already gotten to her and that's why her file was already in the folder?

312...

or was it 212?


End file.
